


Who Do You Love?

by shaqfu



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - 1960s, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Recreational Drug Use
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-12
Updated: 2020-10-12
Packaged: 2021-03-08 01:28:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,611
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26963704
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shaqfu/pseuds/shaqfu
Summary: It's the 1960s and goddess, does Ferdinand wish his life was different.
Relationships: Ferdinand von Aegir/Hubert von Vestra
Comments: 8
Kudos: 38





	Who Do You Love?

_Dorothea is beautiful_ , he reminds himself.

Ferdinand has been willing himself to remember this for weeks. He can see her sitting in the corner with two of her sorority sisters on the pea colored couch, holding a glass with the spiked punch in her hand. The three of them are laughing about something and passing back and forth a joint. They’re all beautiful, in fact. If a photographer was here, they’d be the poster girls for a “Life” issue on college students.

Ferdinand wished desperately that he wanted to stay with Dorothea. A tenacious girl with a promising future, a supportive adoptive mother, and the wit to make the right choices in life. Then why does he feel dread in the pit of his stomach every time he thinks about his future?

To his defense, thinking about his future in general gives him anxiety.

Ferdinand runs his fingers through his hair absent mindedly and downs the rest of his drink. A Sonics Record plays from the opposite side of the room.

He eyes the band setting up in front of the fire place, and can’t help but stare at their bassist. He’s totally different from what he looked like in class on Thursday. He’s wearing a dark t-shirt with the sleeves cut off and a pair of dark jeans and boots. He looks like the rest of the punks on the cover of his record sleeves. The types of bands that are kids with music one foot in blues and one foot in something like a wannabe Velvet Underground. Earlier that week, Hubert was sporting a dark, plaid sports jacket with slacks and loafers. Smartly dressed, he even wore a tie. Despite the lecture hall holding 200 people, Ferdinand couldn’t take his eyes off of him, yet Ferdinand couldn’t help but think he liked Hubert’s current outfit better.

Ferdinand looks down at his own outfit. Brown loafers, white socks, and slacks. His sweater with a horse on it. (A gift from his mother.) His hair getting embarrassingly long. If he kept it up, it soon wouldn’t fit under his polo helmet. Ferdinand longed for an identity other than the one his father crafted him his whole entire life. Could he have been in his own band? He can carry a tune, still read notes, although slow and hazy. _There’s no use now_ , he thinks to himself.

The time for self loathing was over, he can’t dwell on a life he’ll never have. Ferdinand heads to the kitchen for another beer.

“Hello Sigma Theta House, thank you for having us,” says a voice into the microphone.

The needle was quickly pulled off the record, the house becomes quiet, and Ferdinand grabs his beer.

“We’re The Dark Mages, and we’re excited to be here!”

A few claps and cheers burst through the room and Ferdinand leans against the wall. As the first guitar rift plays, Dorothea makes eye contact with him and winks. Ferdinand smiles on reflex.

_She knows, doesn’t she? She has to know that I’m…_ He doesn’t bother to finish the sentence.

Hubert plays the way professionals play. A passion, an ease, a coolness that only years of practice and confidence can portray. Ferdinand sees it in class when Hubert answers a question, when he knows the reading as well as a professor, when he walks down the sidewalk with Edelgard. Ferdinand envied his self-assuredness, his hunger for knowledge, and his quick tongue. In the safety on his own thoughts he admits to himself that above all else, he finds Hubert attractive.

The set continues, a few original songs, a Kingsmen cover, a few more originals.

Dorothea dances with her sorority sisters, a broach Ferdinand gave her for Christmas reflects in the light. He sips his beer.

The set ends and Ferdinand slips into the kitchen for a glass of water and grabs a joint from the drawer next to the sink. He slips outside and pulls the matches out of his pocket. There’s a light on and he sees a couple hold each other quietly talking, he can’t tell who it is due to the shadows but just for a moment, he pretends he’s there standing with Hubert.

He lights the joint and holds the smoke in his lungs. He exhales and hears the door open.

“Let me get a hit,” the voice says and he’s startled to see Hubert next to him.

He’s somehow even more striking up close. A little sweaty, eyes shining bright from adrenaline, Ferdinand wished he could stroke his face right then and there.

Silently he hands the joint over, forcing himself to stop his mouth from hanging open.

“You throw a good party, von Aegir.”

“You play a great set, von Vestra.”

Hubert chuckles as he exhales the smoke. “Yea, you seemed to be watching every move I made.”

Ferdinand paused. Was this an invitation?

“Yea, the way your fingers move,” he takes a moment to find the right word, weed and alcohol making him slow. “it’s mesmerizing.” He winces as soon as he realizes what he said and reaches back for the joint.

Hubert raises the eyebrow not covered by his outgrown bangs. “I’ve heard rumor that you’re not too bad at singing, yourself. Maybe we should duet sometime.”

Ferdinand dumbly nods and continues to stare, not breaking eye contact as he pulls from the joint.

Hubert looks the fraternity man up and down. “Actually, I think I want to stay for a beer. Mind if I hide my stuff in your room?”

This was an unspoken invitation. Something only of fantasies. Ferdinand would be dumb not to take it. He had to make up his mind, fast. It’s now or never.

“Yea, I can show you my record collection.”

Ferdinand stops himself from running. He tries to be casual. Calm, a respectable Sigma Theta. They walk back into the living room where now a ? and the Mysterians record was plays. Hubert grabs for his guitar case as Dorothea pulls on Ferdinand’s sleeve.

“Ferdie, having fun?” She looks expectantly at Ferdinand and then her eyes flicker towards Hubert, never letting go of Ferdinand’s sleeve.

Ferdinand is beginning to regret that third beer. “Of course, dear? What about you?”

“Well, I wish my boyfriend would actually spend time with me instead of mope in the corner but,” she lowers her voice, “if he needs to have guy time in his room with his _friend_ then I understand.”

Dorothea knew exactly what was happening. Maybe he should start describing her as insightful to people and not even bother to mention how beautiful she is. It clearly was one of her gifts. He leaned in and kissed her on the temple.

“Thank you, ‘Thea. We can figure this out later.”

“I would like that very much,” she replies. Her smile doesn’t quite meet her eyes like it did earlier. He’ll make it up to her somehow.

He turns to Hubert, now talking to his drummer.

“Hubert, are you ready?” he boldly asks. Solidifying what he’s about to do.

Hubert nods to his drummer and begins to follow Ferdinand. Up the stairs and down the hall, two doors down on the left, Ferdinand opens his bedroom door. It’s filled with all that one would assume. Pictures of his family at Martha’s Vineyard, a pennant from homecoming, a Pollock print up on the wall. On the corner sat a turntable with a milk crate filled with records in varying level of use. A sweater hangs on the doorknob of his closet.

Hubert leans his case gingerly against the wall and Ferdinand pats the granny-square blanket at the foot of the bed inviting Hubert to join him.

“I should have known your room would look like this,” Hubert comments, looking around.

“You thought about what my room would look like?” Ferdinand asks, almost scandalized.

“Yes, and you haven’t thought about _my fingers_?” Hubert shoots right back, taking a cigarette out of his pack.

Ferdinand’s face goes red, debating if there’s any way he can bother to save himself. No matter what, he’s going to sound like a day-dreaming fool. Might as well be honest.

“Of course I have,” he says boldly.

Hubert leans in to look closer at Ferdinand’s face, features neutral, studying him like the eighth wonder of the world. Hubert blows the smoke slowly into Ferdinand’s face, silently begging him to do something. As soon as the smoke clears, Ferdinand lunges in.

Hubert’s reaction is instantaneous. They’re kissing and it makes sense to Ferdinand. It’s frantic, it’s longing, it’s every unsaid thing they’ve said to each other in between glances during lectures and house parties. Hubert clearly wants this as bad as Ferdinand does.

With a smack of lips, Hubert pulls away to catch his breath. He licks his chapped lips. “I didn’t know you had it in you, Ferdie,” he says, using Dorothea’s nickname for the redhead.

“I didn’t know you were actually interested,” Ferdinand admits, all of the bravado gone from earlier.

Maybe this shouldn’t go further. Maybe he should stick to his father’s plan for him. Marry Dorothea after they graduate, buy a home in New Rochelle after he gets a job at his father’s company. They could be happy together, Hubert a memory, the couple horseback riding on the weekend, going to Broadway together. It was quaint, but it was boring.

Hubert sees the worry in his eyes and places a calloused hand on his cheek. Ferdinand stops himself from nuzzling into the warm hand.

“Ferdinand,” a plea.

He looks up and looks into Hubert’s eyes.

“Just for tonight?” Hubert asks, equally nervous.

“Maybe a little longer,” Ferdinand whispers, and he leans in.

**Author's Note:**

> I listened to no dogs in space, got hey bo diddley stuck in my head for 96 hours straight, and all I got was this stupid fan fic.  
> if you squint, this takes place in '66/'67 and nobody roast me for inaccurate music use.  
> also, sorry this is only half ass edited. title from who do you love? by bo diddley
> 
> [twitter](https://twitter.com/vicunad)


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